


Imperishable

by McFif, Rennakins



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Original Fiction, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 23:49:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McFif/pseuds/McFif, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennakins/pseuds/Rennakins
Summary: Wilhelm can end this now, for the sake of that poor traumatized girl, for all the others that this abomination has murdered.  Just tug his head down with a firm grasp on his hair and position the knife, then drive it down to sever the head.  But those eyes meet his, dark and wide and pleading, and he parts his lips to speak to him directly.“I don’t want to die,” he whispers, and the movement causes the knife to nick into his skin again, drawing more blood.  The vampire winces, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing.  “Please.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art by editor and co story planner Sophie Bachmann - fifdraws.tumblr.com or mcfif.tumblr.com
> 
> Visit our story blog at imperishablestory.tumblr.com :)

 

 

 

  

I confess to almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have sinned,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do,

through my fault, through my fault,

through my most grievous fault;

therefore I ask blessed Mary, ever-Virgin,

all the Angels and Saints,

and you, my brothers and sisters,

to pray for me to the Lord our God.

 

May almighty God have mercy on us,

forgive our sins,

and bring us to everlasting life.

Amen.

_-Penitential Act_

 

 

 

 

 

“Et benedictio Dei omnipotentis, Patris, Filii et Spiritus sancti descendat super vos et maneat semper.”

“Amen.”

After the last rites have been said, the prayers turn to silence and then gentle whispers among family members, an old woman approaches the priest.  Wilhelm has seen this enough times that had he not already known her, he would still instantly recognize her as the widow.  He sees it in the way she walks, and in her face, so sorrowful, eyes glassy with unspilled tears, red and puffy and threatening to overflow.  He had expected her to sob through the prayers, as many do, but she managed to keep her composure, following along in a shaky voice until the end.

“Father,” she speaks, her voice quiet, thick with emotion.  “Thank you again for coming so late.  I didn’t want to call for you so late in the evening – but his sickness, he seemed to be getting better, and then suddenly…”

He places a gentle hand on her shoulder as she chokes up on her words.  “It’s no trouble, ma’am – I make house visits at all hours for cases such as this.  Your husband has been a faithful member of the church for many years, long before me.  It’s the least I could do for him.”  He glances towards the bed where the woman’s husband lies immobile – withered, waxy skin, still breathing but just barely in shallow, intermittent rasps.  He’s not likely to last the night, Wilhelm thinks, but decides not to share this aloud.

His words don’t do much to pacify her, as he expects, when her future is so unclear.  There isn’t much he could say that would help her right now, when her world is crashing down around her, the weight of her husband’s impending death.  A few silent moments pass between them before she speaks again, her voice soft and strained.

“Father, will he truly find peace when he’s gone?” She shifts nervously, clearly uncomfortable but the words tumble out before she can stop herself.  “I believe in our Lord, Father, I honestly do, but…” she trails off, her gaze falling to her dying husband.  “Life hasn’t been so kind to him.  I just need to know that he won’t be in pain anymore.”

It isn’t the first time he’s heard this concern either.  The first time someone asked, he’d taken it as a question of faith as well, but now he understands it as a plea for comfort from the loved ones left behind.  “It isn’t unusual to worry about these things, but the Lord will care for him once he leave us.”  He touches her shoulder again, with a gentle squeeze this time.  “He shall wipe every tear from your eyes. And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out or pain, for the former world has passed away.”

The woman nods once, and the tears finally spill down her wrinkled cheeks as she chokes out her gratefulness.  Almost immediately, her youngest son comes to her side, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and pulls her away with a quick apology to the priest.  He watches them walk away, the son whispering small comforts to his mother as she cries on his shoulder.

One of her daughters, a kind but quiet woman he often sees at church with her own children, approaches shortly after.  She hadn’t yet said a word to him all evening, but when she does speak, her voice is soft, somewhat unsure.  “Father, would you like a bed to stay for the night?  It’s late, and I worry that the streets aren’t safe to walk at night.”

Wilhelm smiles politely, but he shakes his head.  “I appreciate the offer, but I should go back to the church.  Father Benedikt expects me back this evening and I’d hate to worry him.  It’s no trouble for me, and I would hate to intrude during this sensitive time.”

The woman nods understandingly, and turns away for a moment, only to retrieve a small, worn wicker basket with a light cloth draped over the top.  “I had a feeling you’d say that,” she says with a smile, and presses the basket into his hands.  “I prepared this for you to take.  There’s enough for Father Benedikt as well.”

“I appreciate it, but I can’t take this,” Wilhelm insists, but when he tries to hand it back she only pushes it back into his arms.

“Please.  You’ve done so much for us.  Not only now, but these past few years, you’ve brought so much joy to the church.  We’re proud to have you as our priest.”

This time, Wilhelm doesn’t try to return the woman’s gift.  Even if he’d wanted to, her words render him speechless, that she’d speak so fondly of him.  Although he’s been with their parish for five years, he still often feels estranged from the community.  Knowing that he’s valued and trusted by even one member eases a bit of tension in his chest.  Wilhelm holds the basket delicately, careful not to damage any of the already frayed weaves, and he reminds himself to return it when he sees her tomorrow for Ash Wednesday, and to thank the woman for her kind words.

Having done his part, he makes his rounds with the family, saying his goodbyes to leave them to grieve as they need to, and departs after one last look to the devastated widow, nestled between relatives trying in vain to ease her pain.  He only hopes that they may be able to find the slightest bit of comfort knowing that their loved one will be with God.

He closes the door behind him and lets out a deep breath that he feels like he’s been holding since the start of the rites.  It’s terrible to leave like this, unable to do anything more for the man’s surviving family members.  Wilhelm pulls his overcoat further over his shoulders as he chances one more look at the small home before he starts to walk home, hoping his exit felt casual, that the woman hadn’t seen past his flimsy excuse to leave.  But he sees the grieving process too much in his profession, and the toll it takes on the small congregation that still frequent his church.  Everyone knows everyone in the parish, and he’s certain word will have gotten around come morning Mass.  Women will gossip quietly amongst themselves about it, falling silent when he’s near and greeting him with pleasantries before continuing.  He hears almost everything that goes on within the parish, whether he wants to or not, and he knows the profound effect it will have on those who remain.  The candles will glow a little dimmer, the parishioners will walk a little slower, Mass will feel longer, heavy with sorrow. 

But Wilhelm – he must not waver in his duties, must continue as though he doesn’t feel the weight of this man’s passing as much as the rest of them, because this is how they need him to be.  They will come to him for guidance, for strength, and he must steel himself so that they can count on him.  It’s a lonely way to live, keeping his feelings hidden, isolating his emotions for the good of the parish, but he at least takes comfort in knowing that it’s for the good of the many.  He has to take comfort where he can find it.

Where he plans to take his next right he instead meets a dead end, so he turns and stops on the broken cobblestones to survey his surroundings – he’s sure that he’d passed by the market, turned left at the worn sign to a bakery he often visits, past the crumbling cornerstones of a home where some young couple has etched their names, seen the small dog statue outside a shop owned by a member of the church who invited him in once for a hot meal with his family. 

Somehow, while caught in his own thoughts, he instead finds himself cast into a part of town he rarely sees, especially at night.  Where the route home had been dark, visible only by moonlight and occasional gas lamps, these buildings have candles still burning in the windows, light spilling out from open doors, following the raucous sounds of night life.  Some patrons spill out of a nearby bar, laughing loudly, drunkenly stumbling into each other with smiles on their faces.

He shivers as the cool winter air blows a breeze over him.  He’s tried to talk to the type of men who frequent these places, in hopes that maybe he could help some of them find a path to a better life, but his words had largely fallen on deaf ears.  From what he’s experienced, these people don’t want to be saved – they want to continue their lives of sin, drinking into the early hours of the morning, taking a break just long enough to pay for the company of a prostitute.  Though the odds are low that someone might corner and assault a priest, knowing full well that he likely carries nothing of value, it isn’t wise to risk walking through this area, though Wilhelm knows the alternative will take much longer.  If he just turns back, it’s only a few extra minutes…

A quick flash of something catches his eye then, glistening silver in the moonlight, and it’s followed by a clatter, a sharp hiss of pain, hushed words, and finally a woman’s muffled cries.  Without a second thought, Wilhelm’s hand moves to his sleeve, searching for the familiar handle of a dagger as he steps forward, following the sound to the next corner.

What light comes through the nearby buildings hardly reaches the narrow alley he finds before him.  Wilhelm can make out two figures moving, shrouded in darkness, in what seems to be some kind of struggle.  At the feet of one of the figures rests a small pendant of some sort, catching the tiniest shard of light, and he knows it must be what caught his attention before.  He grips the handle of the dagger tightly and rushes into the alley.

He expects a mugging, or at the very worst, a murder, but he stops just shy of the pair as he gets a better view.  He sees a woman with dark, impossibly curly hair, pressed up against the wall, a shiny silver cross dropped at her feet – and a man holding her there, face buried in the soft flesh of a bared breast, one hand caressing her neck gently, the other disappearing beneath her hitched skirts.  The woman doesn’t seem to notice his approach, lost in the pleasure of the encounter as her quiet moans turn to breathy encouragement, but the man stills his movements as though he’s realized they’ve been caught.  Wilhelm feels the rushed apologies bubble up in his throat as he turns to leave, but something unusual catches his eye first.

 

Blood.

 

A small rivulet of red runs down the woman’s breast from where the man’s mouth had been pressed to her, temporarily forgotten as he turns to their unexpected visitor.  And Wilhelm can see it now, the blood on his lips, the shock in his eyes that quickly turns to – what is that expression, he wonders for a split second – and then nothing but cold.

The eyes of a killer.  A vampire.

Wilhelm pulls the dagger from his sleeve, ready to defend himself and this woman from the oncoming attack.  It isn’t the best tool to have for the situation, but he hadn’t expected to suddenly run into any issues on his way home from a simple prayer and finds himself largely unprepared.  There is a very real chance that he could die, unmatched as he is, but what he doesn’t expect is for the vampire to catch the sight of his silver blade and flee down the alley instead.

The woman still stands, paralyzed as she hugs the wall behind her, a look of terror in her eyes – she will certainly live, she isn’t drained to the point of death – so Wilhelm makes the choice to give chase instead, in hope that she will either still be there when he returns or will run to safety while he drives the vampire away.

Between services and his other duties, Wilhelm doesn’t have a lot of spare time or energy to put toward exercise, so his initial concern is that he might lose the predator before him, but luckily he seems to have done enough to keep him in sight as he weaves through darkened streets.  He sprints after the man – no, not a man, a vile assailant, a murderer – as swiftly as possible, only hoping that he can manage to close the distance between them as he curls his fist tightly around the handle of the dagger.  Once he’s close enough, the vampire will surely lash out, and he has to be ready.  If not…

He doesn’t expect to come to a sudden stop at a dead end, but to his immense luck, the vampire doesn’t seem to have expected it either, slowly backing away from the wall in front of him.  The creature turns, and Wilhelm can see his features more clearly here: he’s surprisingly young, possibly even less than twenty years of age, his dark eyes wild with fear, blood streaked over full lips as he tries to wipe it away, as though he thinks maybe the priest before him hasn’t noticed it yet.  He glances around quickly, like the trapped animal he is, searching for some way to escape, but the exit is too narrow to slip past Wilhelm’s frame on either side.

He takes a few steps back cautiously until his black curls bunch against the wall behind his head, and he’s trapped, and though Wilhelm fully expects that look of fear to turn to one of rage, of a mindless beast ready to claw its way to freedom… it doesn’t.  He catches a glimpse of the knife in Wilhelm’s hand and gasps audibly.  Hands scramble against the unforgiving brick behind him, and finally it seems he’s made his decision, rushing Wilhelm’s left in hopes to jostle him enough to the side to slip past.

Wilhelm is ready for it.  He pushes the vampire to the ground – there’s a pained shout of “fuck!” when his head slams against the dirt – with all of his weight, pinning the vampire with most of his body, pressing the knife firmly to his throat.

“You won’t harm anyone again,” Wilhelm says through gritted teeth, and the confidence, the finality, in his words forces the vampire to look him in the eye.  Wilhelm presses the knife down a little harder to emphasize his words, drawing a cry and a faint line of dark, fresh blood from the creature beneath him.

He can end this now, for the sake of that poor traumatized girl, for all the others that this abomination has murdered.  Just tug his head down with a firm grasp on his hair (lucky for him there is a lot of it) and position the knife, then drive it down to sever the head.  Vampires can recover from many injuries that might kill a simple mortal, but not even they can survive a beheading.  But those eyes meet his, dark and wide and pleading, and he parts his lips to speak to him directly.

“I don’t want to die,” he whispers, and the movement causes the knife to nick into his skin again, drawing more blood.  The vampire winces, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing.  “Please.”

 

 

Wilhelm had only managed to track and kill one vampire before.  It was a messy affair, a vampire who had recently drained a woman, and he’d had to wait until nightfall to sneak back into the church, drenched from head to toe in blood. 

His predecessor, Father Benedikt, had trained him thoroughly, had told him over and over: “Do not hesitate.  Do not give them any opening.  The tiniest lapse of concentration will cause your downfall.  End it swiftly, and be sure that it is done.”

He had followed the father’s instructions to the letter in his first kill.  After slashing its throat, he’d let the body crumple to the ground, and then he’d gotten to work, methodically severing the head, just to be safe.  He felt the blood, still disgustingly warm, soak into his clothes as he knelt down to finish his work with shaking hands.  A stab to the heart next time, he told himself.  Father Benedikt had been right – decapitation, far too messy, and far too unnerving.

Once he’d made it back to the church, the father had instructed him to change clothes and burned the bloodied ones.  Wilhelm had destroyed the remains to the best of his ability but there had simply been too much blood to not leave any trace at all.  He had only hoped it wouldn’t be traced back to him.  But who would suspect a priest in training anyhow?  The father had praised him for his good work, and he knew he’d done God’s work to dispel an evil creature from the world, but that didn’t stop the nightmares that plagued him nearly every night for the next few weeks.  Sometimes, he’d glance over at the Father Benedikt in the mornings with tired eyes and he’d receive a sympathetic nod of understanding.

Here, in the present, with this vampire pinned beneath him, the words of his predecessor repeat in his head.  Do not hesitate…  End it swiftly, and be sure that it is done.

The vampire, looking as though he may start to cry – surely vampires can’t cry – watches him with large, pleading eyes.

 

He hesitates.

 

It’s hardly more than a few seconds when the sound of a young woman’s voice breaks his concentration.  “Stop!” she shouts.  “Father, you can’t – It’s not what it seems, please don’t hurt him!”

It must be intuition, he reasons, that makes him turn his head towards the source, where he finds the young lady from before in the alleyway behind them, one hand braced against the wall as she catches her breath.  She’s pulled the neckline of her dress to cover her breasts again but her clothing is still obviously askew, her hair a frizzy mess as it sticks to the sweat on her forehead.

“What are you –?” he begins, but it’s all the distraction the vampire needs to break from his grasp.  With one hard shove he knocks the priest to the side and this is it, Wilhelm thinks, not only will he die but so will the girl he’d attacked, having followed them here.  But to his surprise, the vampire doesn’t lunge at him, doesn’t sink his teeth into Wilhelm’s neck.  He casts one last fearful glance back to Wilhelm and flees past the young woman, who… lets him go?

He doesn’t understand.

He scrambles to his feet and rushes after him, but the woman grabs his arm, holding him back to the best of her ability, and it’s just enough for him to lose sight of the vampire.  He makes it to the next alley, frantically glancing down each way, but the vampire is nowhere to be found.

The woman walks towards him, tries to walk past as he slumps back against the side of the house beside him, but Wilhelm grabs her arm firmly.  “Do you have any idea of what you’ve just done?” he asks her incredulously.

“I saved my friend,” she snaps back almost immediately, and when Wilhelm sees the unbridled fire of conviction in her eyes he can only assume that she must have been seduced by this creature, but if so, how does he still have her under his thrall after he’s gone?  She is still staring him down fiercely as she rips her arm out of his grasp.  “You tried to kill him.  Whatever happened to _thou shalt not kill_ , Father?”

“Watch your tongue,” he says sharply, and he wipes the knife clean with a kerchief he pulls from his robes, sheathing the blade and hiding it on his person once more.  “I’ve saved your life.  That… that creature.  Do you even know what he was?  What danger you were in?”

Wilhelm expects a far different reaction from the one he receives.  Perhaps the girl would feel some level of shame, but she doesn’t show it, only stares back at him, her jaw set, shoulders squared.  “Yes, I know what he is.  I’m not stupid.  But he poses no threat to me, no threat to anyone as long as he’s with me.”  Though her features remain hard, a slight flush rises to her cheeks as she moves to pull the neckline of her dress down just enough to expose two puncture wounds on the swell of her breast.  “We have an agreement.  It’s you who doesn’t understand.”

Wilhelm instinctively looks away when the woman exposes the bite marks to him, astonished by her audacity; never in his life has he seen a woman so bold, in front of a priest no less.  “He is a vampire, and he shouldn’t exist,” Wilhelm replies slowly, adding force to each word.  “He is a danger to you and to every other person in this town.  Killing him would be an act of mercy.”

She rolls her eyes.  “Well you and your God will have no help from me,” she says, coldly, and walks at a brisk pace away, leaving Wilhelm alone with this new terror in the dark alley.  Now that he knows this threat exists, he certainly won’t sleep easily.  He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, now damp with sweat, and walks back towards the distant lights of the town’s night life in hopes that someone may be able to guide him home.

On the way, he catches a glimpse again of the cross necklace on the ground, its thin silver chain snapped.  Realizing it must belong to the girl, he hurries back to the main street and turns left where she’d disappeared around the corner, but he sees no sight of her.  Wilhelm pockets the small cross for now, in hopes that he’ll run into her again, though hopefully in better circumstances.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to make a quick note that in this chapter that the word g*psy is used, though we're against it. The story takes place around 1900, so we believed Miri's coworkers would likely use it to describe her. We certainly don't mean any offense and weren't sure how to describe Miri's ethnicity while staying in the time of the story otherwise. Thank you for reading!

 

Reports of strange deaths begin to filter in not long after.

Wilhelm had expected as much – he keeps his ear to the ground, casually listens in to idle gossip where he can – but it’s still hard to hear when a member of his own church turns up dead.  Radek, a kind, healthy young man he’d met on many occasions, who volunteered often, found lifeless, pale, and – of course – drained of his blood.

He struggles to remain composed through discussing funeral arrangements with the man’s young widow, who holds their youngest child close as she sobs, terrified of her uncertain future.  And the small community is understandably shaken.  He does the best to keep the peace, to soothe the frayed nerves of his gathering, his next service full of comforting passages about God’s love and compassion in memory of their lost loved one.  It breaks his heart to see his community like this, quietly terrified behind their grief. 

There are whispers, as one would expect – theories as to the poor man’s fate.  Iva, a particularly chatty housewife, says disease, and many agree with her, but some blame local wildlife, like a farmer who claims his livestock have suffered in similar ways.  A few ponder that he may have met a gruesome fate at the hands of some cursed creature, though they never say aloud precisely what sort of monster it may be.

He pretends not to hear these rumors and instead focuses on consoling the members of his church when they need him.  And when they don’t, in his spare precious time, he searches for any clues as to where this monster may have hidden. 

One such way that he gains information is during the funeral.  Most of the community shows, though Wilhelm knows some of the attendants weren’t especially close with the young man.  He suspects they are looking for more of the gruesome details, for more speculation about the death, even on such a holy day.  It’s something Wilhelm desperately wants to address, to pull some of them aside and remind them that it’s inappropriate, but he begrudgingly accepts that he needs every bit of information he can get from them, such as the last time he’d been seen and the exact time and place where he was found.  It’s also fortunate that he’s able to see the body before the casket is closed, to determine that yes, it does seem to be the work of a vampire.  Of the other three cases he’d seen, he’s managed to attribute at least one to an unrelated animal attack, which does little to put his mind at ease when the other two seem so similar to the body in the casket before him. 

Wilhelm has one lead, he knows, although he is reluctant to follow up on it.  The young woman he’d met in the alley that fateful night may know more than she had let on.  Though he’s lived a pious life, he’s no fool – by her dress, he’d known what she’d been doing alone at night, offering her particular trade by moonlight – and returning to that place of sin isn’t likely to sit well with anyone who frequents those streets after dark.  He’d tried once to return by the light of day to spread the word of the Lord and he’d been thoroughly ignored by all passersby.  Clearly, neither he nor God are welcome among them.

But with each passing hour that he doesn’t follow this lead, the death of Radek weighs heavily on his mind.  If only I’d gone to speak with the young woman sooner, he thinks to himself, perhaps I could have prevented his death.  Then again, she hadn’t been too pleased with him the first time he’d met her; she wasn’t likely to have changed her mind.  With news of every new death, he feels increasingly nervous, increasingly guilty for having been unable to prevent it.

Immediately after performing the young man’s funeral service, Wilhelm retires to his room, staying only long enough to change into something less conspicuous and to gather his tools, and he disappears into the night in search of the young woman.

 

 

He isn’t sure why he thought this would be easier, but she’s nowhere to be found.  Asking around for her is awkward at best, doing his best to describe a young woman he’d only met once briefly a few months before, her necklace in hand as his only clue, and he feels sick at the looks he receives in response.  There is only one reason why a man would ask around for a young lady at this time of night, in this neighborhood, and the assumptions that are no doubt coming from his questions make his stomach turn.  He only hopes that nobody recognizes him in plainclothes, because he can’t even begin to imagine trying to explain this mess if someone from his congregation found him all the way out here.

There are a few more establishments with their lights still burning so late into the night, seedier places that he hesitates to set foot into.  But then he thinks of that young man again, the one he let down, the one who would never be able to hold his family again… and he takes a determined step forward into the bar in front of him.

There are more people inside than he’s frankly comfortable seeing, and his urge to speak out against the sins of this place wells up, but he pushes it down, knowing he has more pressing matters to attend to.  There’s a jovial mood spread across the room, certainly aided by the drinks that the women in the bar struggle to keep pace with as they’re called over to tables constantly.  To his immense relief, he doesn’t recognize any faces among them, though he’s equally disappointed that none of the women sitting on the laps of drunk men are the one he’s been searching for.

Before he can do much more than a cursory glance around, he’s approached by a woman near his age, her early greying hair pinned up hastily and dressed to draw attention to her sizable breasts.  He’s so taken aback by her sudden appearance that he hardly realizes when she takes his hand and nearly drags him to a table, urging him to sit.

“What can I help you with, sir?” she asks sweetly, leaning over the table.

“I’m um, looking for someone,” he says, glancing around again. 

The woman doesn’t seem surprised, and Wilhelm wonders why she smiles at him the way she does, gentle with a hint of something else he doesn’t understand.  But then she takes a single step forward before lowering herself onto his lap.  When she speaks, her voice has dropped into a sultry whisper, “I’ve got some time right now if you’re interested…”  She runs a thin hand over his chest and he immediately seizes up in the panic of realization; she notices and drops her smile for just a moment before masking it with another that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.  “Oh, unless you’ve come here to meet with a man.  We get all sorts around here, I’m sure I could direct you to someone more suited to your needs.”

“No, no!  That’s not what I’m here for,” he manages, shifting on the chair in a manner that he hopes will encourage her to stand back up.  Thankfully, she seems to get the hint and stands back up, her cheeks a little flushed from the misunderstanding.  Wilhelm takes a moment to smooth down his clothes, composing himself after such an embarrassing incident, before he tries to clarify.  “I’m looking for a girl.  Short, with dark curls and brown eyes.”  He pulls the cross out once more from his pocket and presents it to the woman.  “She was wearing this, but she dropped it.  I saw her around here once before, I thought –”

“It sounds like you want the gypsy girl,” the woman interrupts, crossing her arms.  “Figures.  She always seems to get the handsome ones…”

“She works here?” Wilhelm asks.

“Most nights,” the woman says, then she turns and flags down a woman in the midst of carrying drinks across the room.  “Ruza, have you seen Miri around here lately?”

“It’s Thursday,” the second woman, Ruza, replies, as though that explains everything.  “That young man with the curly black hair comes to see her on Thursdays.  I don’t know where she goes, but I don’t think she takes any other clients after him.”

The first woman gives Wilhelm an apologetic look.  “Sorry, it looks like she won’t be here tonight, but there are other girls here who can take care of you.”

Wilhelm looks back at her with wide eyes as her words sink in.  He remembers the vampire before, remembers the words that the young woman had said.  Perhaps she really was seduced, that the vampire has been using her all this time… she protected him before, but he knows this girl is certainly in danger, even if she isn’t yet aware.

Before the woman can say anything else, Wilhelm is out of his chair and out the door.  He only hopes he’s able to make it in time.

The street outside is empty save for a few men outside in the middle of a conversation, blowing smoke into the night air as they puff on cigars and discuss their evening’s conquests.  Wilhelm takes a quick glance around the street for some clue as to where the woman may have gone to.  He thinks that maybe he could come back the next night, but he worries that waiting even one more night may mean her death – he needs to get her away from this creature as soon as he possibly can.

He searches the nearby streets and alleys, listens for any lascivious sounds that might give her location away, if the last embarrassing meeting was anything to go by, but the farther he wanders from the lights of bars and brothels, the fewer people linger.  It’s at this point where he begins to worry somewhat for himself, if some vile creature sneaks up on him from the depths of these narrow side streets.

All at once his concerns for himself are ripped away at the sound of high-pitched shriek, haunting, terrified.  He tears off in its direction, hoping he doesn’t make a wrong turn that sets him off the course, praying that he isn’t too late, that he doesn’t have even more blood on his hands. 

The town is fairly small, and he’s been through this area a few times since he was lost, but the streets are so unfamiliar in the dark that he has to focus to be sure he doesn’t simply wind up running in circles.  Just when he begins to doubt his sense of direction and thinks to pause to let his mind catch up with his feet, he comes to a small open area behind old, long-abandoned homes, a minute courtyard among crumbling, forgotten stone.  His heart sinks when his eyes catch the petite figure of a young woman, collapsed in against the back wall, the vampire hunched over her.

But something isn’t right about this scene.  The vampire supports her head, almost as though to cradle it, his other hand wrapped around an arm as he gently shakes her.  He speaks her name over and over, trying to rouse her, and when he finally realizes Wilhelm’s presence, he jerks his head towards him and the look in his dark eyes could only be described as frantic.

Wilhelm opens his mouth to speak, but the vampire beats him to it.  “You have to help her,” he says, pleading, and the words sound small and strained.  A slow stream of blood runs down his arm but Wilhelm doesn’t have time to consider why this is.  “Stay here with her, do – do something, pray that she hasn’t lost too much, I need to go.  I need to–”

The vampire stands, begins to head for a narrow passageway to the right but Wilhelm rushes to head him off.  With all the strength he can muster from shaking limbs, he shoves the vampire back against the nearby wall hard, holding him in place against it.

He finds himself at the receiving end of a hard, leveled stare.  “You don’t understand,” he growls through gritted teeth.

“Then explain it to me, monster,” Wilhelm replies, tightening his grip on the vampire’s arms, causing him to wince, or perhaps it is the choice of words that causes it.  “I’ll allow you a confession before I have to kill you.”

“I’m not the one you should be after!” the vampire shouts.  He’s nearly hysterical now, and he struggles against Wilhelm’s grip but he seems somewhat weaker than he’d been the last time, unable to break free.  “Yes, Miri and I, we have an agreement, but this wasn’t me, this was another – far more dangerous.  I’d never hurt her like this, not Miri!”

“Do you believe I’m dimwitted enough to fall for that?” Wilhelm says, cocking an eyebrow.

The vampire glances down the passageway once more before he finally stops struggling, shoulders slumped.  “At the moment you seem dimwitted enough.  Look, if you’re not going to let me go, at least let me check on Miri.  Please.”

The last word comes out small, almost defeated, and Wilhelm couldn’t help but remember that the vampire had said ‘please’ last time too, in the same tone, when he begged for his life.  When Wilhelm had hesitated, when he had gotten away.  He couldn’t make that mistake again.

So why was he loosening his grip on the man now?

He reaches into his sleeve for his knife again, unsheathing it quickly and positioning it against the vampire’s neck, but instead of finishing what he’d planned, he simply holds it in place, meeting the vampire’s eyes with a hard stare.  “If you try to run, I’ll cut your throat, no questions asked.  Check on her, but I’m staying right here.  Don’t try anything stupid.”

The young man nodded slightly, careful to not move too much with the knife at his throat.  He shifts his eyes back and forth between Miri’s prone body and Wilhelm’s stern expression as he walks slowly to the woman and kneels.  Wilhelm kneels beside him.

The vampire looks her over for a few moments that seem achingly long before he breathes out a sigh of relief.  “She’s lost some blood, but it seems like she’s only fainted.”

“So you drank too much,” Wilhelm points out harshly, earning him a scowl from the vampire.

“I told you it wasn’t me,” he argues.  “Yes, that’s what I was planning on doing here, but not – not like this.”  He looks down at Miri again, and his brow furrows again. 

He places a hand on her shoulder and shakes her again, lighter than before.  Wilhelm is just about to tell him to let her rest when the girl’s eyelashes flutter.  Another few seconds and she looks up at them, her gaze glassy and unfocused at first, but then she shifts just enough to look at the vampire.

“Evžen.”  She breathes out his name in relief.  “What the hell just happened?”

The vampire, Evžen, huffs out a tiny laugh.  “Be careful what you say, Miri, there’s a priest present.”

She turns to Wilhelm then, and her eyes go wide, then narrow at him.  “You again!  Don’t you dare hurt him, or I’ll…”

“It’s fine, Miri,” Evžen tells her gently.  “Are you all right?”

“I’ve certainly felt much better,” she admits.  “What happened?  Who was that woman?” 

“You were attacked by another like me,” Evžen says.  His features turn hard as he speaks.  “But much more dangerous.”

Miri scans around her and her eyes fall to the drying blood on Evžen’s sleeve.  “Your arm!”  She tries to grab at him but lulls forward in the young man’s arms.  He catches and steadies her, one arm wrapped firmly around her back.

“We need to leave.  _She_ needs to get somewhere safe,” Wilhelm says, then, turning to Evžen, adds, “and _you_ need to explain what’s going on.”

“We?” Evžen repeats incredulously.  “I can handle it from here –”

“Absolutely not.  I don’t trust you with her.”

Miri rolls her eyes.  “I can speak for myself, you know.”  She turns to Evžen.  “Let’s just go with him for now and you can explain.  I have a feeling he’s just going to keep showing up here anyway if you try to run off again.”

Evžen looks as though he’s going to argue, but hesitates and snaps his mouth shut with a curt nod.  “Fine.  Where to, Father?”

Wilhelm surveys the area again and realizes he doesn’t know exactly where they’ve run off to, but there’s only one place he really considers safe.  “I live right beside the church,” he says.  “We’ll be safe there, and if you try to attack us…”

“Which I won’t,” Evžen adds, and he stands up with one arm around Miri’s shoulders, helping her to her feet.  She manages a step forward but stumbles on the next; Wilhelm is quick to reach out to help steady her.  When it becomes apparent that she’s too weak to walk on her own, Wilhelm scoops her up into his arms and they head towards his church.

 

 

Sneaking back into his home beside the church is more stressful with two others trailing him, but Wilhelm manages to lead them back to his quarters without waking the old priest, Father Benedikt, who shares the small house with him and had already been asleep when he’d left that evening.  Once Evžen closes the door behind them, Wilhelm sets Miri down on his bed and covers her with a thin blanket; having drifted in and out of consciousness during the walk home, she’s asleep in mere minutes, leaving Wilhelm and Evžen to speak in private.  He lights a single candle to illuminate the small quarters.

Wilhelm’s room is small, modest as one may expect from a priest, with very little belongings – aside from his bed, there only exists a small writing desk with a chair, a trunk at the end of the bed, and a cabinet, and above the door rests a simple cross.  Wilhelm can see that the vampire is far from comfortable in this atmosphere, tucked away hidden in a priest’s bedroom of all places with no escape route, so he motions for Evžen to take the only chair.  Of course, the vampire doesn’t listen, opting instead to place himself at the end of the bed by Miri’s feet as though he means to protect her.  Wilhelm feels like he should assure Evžen that he won’t do anything to harm Miri, but he’s exhausted, and he owes no explanation to his kind.   Wilhelm simply pulls the chair closer to the bed, careful not to scrape it against the old wooden floors, and takes a seat.

“So start explaining,” Wilhelm says, careful to keep his voice low so he doesn’t wake Miri or – a more terrifying thought – Father Benedikt.  “By all accounts I should have killed you by now, but your friend insists that you’re different.  What have you done to her?”

“Why do you assume I’ve done anything to her?” Evžen counters.  “She’s my friend.  Of course she doesn’t want me to die.  I don’t want to die either.”

“Yet you have once already.”

Evžen crosses his arms and leans in close.  “What I am isn’t by choice.  I’m just doing what I need to survive.  I would never kill her.  The woman you let get away – she’s who you should be worried about!”

“What are you talking about?”

Evžen shakes his head and hugs his arms tighter to his chest.  He glances over to Miri, sleeping soundly beside him, resolutely avoiding any eye contact with the priest.  “There’s another vampire,” he says finally.  “She showed up just before my appointment with Miri and attacked her.  You heard her, didn’t you?  Miri said there was a woman – but she’s more like a monster.  She plays with her victims for days, maybe even weeks, before she turns on them and drains them of all their blood.  Whatever you think of me, she’s much worse.”

Something briefly shifts in Wilhelm’s expression.  It sounds like a poorly constructed lie, too much of a coincidence that two vampires might show up in the same small village at the same time, but when Miri had regained consciousness she had mentioned seeing a woman.  The way Evžen speaks of her, the mixture of contempt and fear in his voice, and the small details of her routine sounds as though he’s crossed paths with her before.  “So you know all of this personally?” he asks.

“That’s private,” Evžen replies immediately.  “Look, the important part is that she’s out there, and as long as she is, others will die.  You need my help to find her.  You were out there looking for me, weren’t you?  This is what you do, aside from your…” he throws his arms out, gesturing around the room, “…priestly duties.  So my proposition is this: don’t kill me, use me.  Let me help you track her down and kill her, and in exchange, you let me go.  Choose the lesser evil.”

“If I let you go, you’ll kill too,” Wilhelm points out.  “Maybe not right away, but that’s what you do.  That’s what you are.”

“Are you not listening to me?  I don’t kill.  It’s messy and it doesn’t taste as good and it draws the attention of people like you who want me dead; more hassle than it’s worth.  If you let me go, I won’t kill anyone.  I’ll just disappear, and you’ll never have trouble with me again.”

Wilhelm falls silent, resting his chin on folded hands as he ponders Evžen’s offer.  His eyes flutter closed, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheeks in the harsh light and he speaks quietly to himself, hardly more than a whisper.  Evžen doesn’t hear most of it, but what he can make out is a single line, which he assumes comes from the bible: “…holding the mystery of the faith in a pure conscience…”  He wonders what is going through the priest’s mind as he prays.

Finally, the priest lifts his head and nods once.  “I cannot in good faith make any such promise right now.”  Evžen opens his mouth to speak, but Wilhelm raises a hand and the vampire finds himself obeying.  “You are asking a lot of me.  This is something that my faith would tell me to resist, but I can’t ignore a greater threat.  Let me say that I’ll think on it, pray for some answers, and for the time being we can search together.  I wish I could make you a better promise, but that’s all I can do at this time.”

Evžen sighs.  “It’s not like I have much of a choice.  I assume you’ll kill me anyway if I refuse.”

“That’s what would be expected of me, yes.  I don’t have much of a choice, either.”

Evžen takes a long look at Miri, curled up and fast asleep in Wilhelm’s bed, her skin unusually pale in the candlelight.  After a moment he finally agrees to Wilhelm’s terms, albeit reluctantly.  “Fine.  But as soon as Miri wakes up, I walk her back home without you questioning her any further.  She has family that will worry if she isn’t back by the morning, and she’s had to deal with enough already.”

“Of course she’s free to go, but where will you be?  Where do I find you if I need you?” Wilhelm asks.

“I don’t really live anywhere,” Evžen says with a shrug.  “I don’t need to sleep, so I don’t have a bed.  I guess you could just ask around the brothels for me–”

“Absolutely not.”  Wilhelm taps his foot impatiently as he thinks, since that is clearly not an option for him.  “I can’t go to those places, and you – it will be disreputable if you’re seen at a brothel or a bar after spending time in the church with me.  It’s better if you stay here.”

Evžen raises an eyebrow.  “You want me to stay here?  A vampire living beside a church?”

“It’s better than the alternative.  At least here I can keep an eye on you.  I don’t know whether I can trust you not to run away when I’m not looking.”

“I won’t,” Evžen promises.  “I swear I want her dead as much as you do.”

“Don’t be too quick to seek vengeance,” Wilhelm says, frowning.  “Let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath: For the wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.”

“The Epistle of James,” Evžen adds, and Wilhelm’s eyes meet his, widened with disbelief.  Evžen can’t suppress a haughty smile.  “I was, once upon a time, a good Christian.  Although I’m not sure if I’m suited to the sort of life you lead here anymore.”

“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” Wilhelm stands from his chair and reaches out a hand to Evžen.  The vampire inhales sharply, hesitant, unsure exactly what he’s getting himself into, but ultimately takes the offered hand.


End file.
